


Not a Messiah, Just a Mess

by tjstar



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1960s, Bodyswap, Gen, Ghosts, Good Sibling Ben Hargreeves, Hippies, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, No Incest, Past Drug Addiction, Possession, Prophets, Sibling Bonding, Telekinesis, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel, cult leader klaus, tua s2 theory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25334719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjstar/pseuds/tjstar
Summary: "I guess I don't look thirteen?"This sounds pathetic.He knows Ben is here."No, you don't.""Good."---Klaus and Ben land in the middle of nowhere in the sixties; Klaus impresses local hippies with his incredible surviving skills. They have been waiting forhim.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 12
Kudos: 169





	Not a Messiah, Just a Mess

He lands into the water, he sinks, he drowns; he swallows it and chokes, heart uneven, chest tight. His lungs are half full of fluids — come on, he used to be an optimist. His ribs might be cracked, his neck is too rigid as he tries to turn his head, to rack through the dense surface of waves closing above him. 

"Klaus! Klaus, look at me!"

He wonders if the ghosts can swim. If _Ben_ can swim. Klaus opens his eyes just to see red ribbons of blood obstructing his vision; there's a hot pulsation of pain in his right temple, in his right shoulder, and his body is a lead statue, hitting the bottom. 

Klaus gives up and _takes_ a shuddering breath.

The scene changes to a familiar monochromatic landscape. 

***

He doesn't remember who he is, or _what_ he is, or where he is — he doesn't remember how his lungs work. He's hot, his body hurts as he coughs up remaining water, he spits it out and sits up in a rush, putting his head between his bare knees. Bare? This doesn't feel right — his clothes are gone, but his memory begins to crawl back at a snail's pace. Bowling lanes, Vanya's concert, the Apocalypse… The Apocalypse? Five tried to trick the time and space, and the last thing that has made an imprint into Klaus' consciousness is getting smaller and younger, and, 

"I guess I don't look thirteen?"

This sounds pathetic.

He knows Ben is here.

"No, you don't." 

"Good."

Klaus looks down at the weird white briefs he's wearing — he doesn't remember owning them. He's sure he's _never_ owned a pair of those, he had a few sets of neon-colored ones, and they're gone. Just like his leather pants, or his army vest, or his bowling shoes. His body is wrapped in a white cloth, too thin to warm him up or to protect him from the sun. Klaus sheds it off his tired shoulders, stretching and letting his joints pop back into their places. The dog tags are hot on his chest, in his palms as he clutches them. _Dave._ Klaus didn't forget him.

"You know what happened?" Ben asks, giving him a certain "this-is-not-an-interrogation" look.

Klaus shakes his head. His brain hurts. 

"No." 

Ben raises his eyebrow.

"You died. And there were some people who pulled you out, they tried to perform a mouth-to-mouth, but it was too late." 

"And they just left me here?" 

Ben frowns.

"I think they went to dig up a grave for you." 

Klaus touches the side of his head; there's a massive lump all covered in dried blood, and the bruise on his side is quite impressive like an arthouse painting. 

"How nice of them."

The rays of sun burn his skin, and he can't stop clearing his throat, still hearing something in his lungs gurgle. He looks around as the dizziness passes, he sees the grass and dirt he's sitting on, sees the pond he's apparently landed into. There's the blood caked underneath his nails, his knees are bruised, and his feet ache as if he's been running away from his own death. 

Well, he's won the prize then. 

"Where's the others?" 

"I don't know." 

Klaus can't blame Ben. It's a big luck that he didn't get lost. 

Klaus gets up, trying to hold onto the air like a toddler, being dead is still not a routine for him. He staggers down a patch of the grass, trying to find somebody. After a few minutes of their "walk" he finally succeeds — he sees a group of people surrounding a fresh, ready-to-receive-the-body, grave. 

"Hello?" 

He doesn't know where to start, standing in front of them and blankly scratching his belly, bitten by the insects. People stare at him with their mouths agape, at least a dozen, all of different ages, sharing a half horrified half amazed expression.

"Excuse me?"

"He came," one woman says, raising her hands. "It's… It's him, he came!" 

Another middle-aged woman falls to her knees, and Klaus doesn't know what to do except trying to help her get back up, but she looks at him as if he's a saint as he touches her. Ah _right,_ he just came back to life. 

"He came! He came!" all of them chant. 

And they try to shake his hands, to pat his shoulders, and he feels claustrophobic surrounded by them; they're not trying to hurt him, just making sure he's alive and corporeal, and,

He closes his eyes and throws his arms in front of himself.

The chanting stops.

"Klaus?.. How?!"

Ben sounds shocked. 

Klaus looks around again. Some of the people sit on the ground, scrambling backwards, a few feet away from him, and some of them keep glancing at him from their lying position. 

"You… You built something like an energy dome around yourself, and they… They just got kicked away from you! Like… Like a telekinesis!" Ben is excited and scared, Klaus doesn't want to scare him. Or anyone. 

"I'm sorry! Jeez, I'm so, so sorry," he says, for the second time trying to lift up that middle-aged woman who looks oddly happy now. "I didn't… I don't know what's going on," he gibbers out.

But they don't look offended at all. 

"It's him," says the man with the braids in his beard. "Just like prophet Morrison said!" 

"What? What prophet? Where am I? What year is it?" Klaus has too many questions, and he shrinks into himself when the man takes a shovel he's been using to dig up a grave. A grave for Klaus.

But he doesn't get beaten. 

They keep the distance now, which is good, and Klaus can breathe again. 

"An old Morrison passed away last night," the man says. "And before he took his last breath he said, that his successor is coming. He's going to land into the water and die to atone for our sins, then come back to life as innocent as a newborn and lead us to the light. Today's the 7th of August, 1960," he nods at Klaus. "May I know your name, Messiah?"

"K-klaus H—"

His mouth goes dry. 

The man doesn't seem to be bothered about his last name. 

"Welcome to the Commune of Freedom, Klaus."

***

"Landed in the sixties, about to become a cult leader," Klaus chuckles, looking at Ben. "Is this a good or bad luck?"

"We'll see," Ben shrugs. "You better play along their rules for a while. They've been waiting for… _You."_

Klaus groans and presses his palms to his eyes.

"They've been waiting for a prophet, Ben!"

"You came from 2019, genius. And… You lived in the sixties." 

And Klaus says,

"Oh." 

He's sure he's gonna get kicked out of the Commune as soon as his withdrawal makes him puke somewhere where he clearly shouldn't be puking. He used to think that he's got a strong stomach, but it never stops surprising him recently. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly to calm himself down — how on earth he's supposed to live his life as an impostor when he's just as confused as the "cult" he's now leading? He and Ben share a tent, a nice blue and white one, reminding Klaus of the circus. Oh right, he's a clown. Two young guys bring him clothes — baggy pants and a jacket, striped and weightless, fabric feels light and silky on his skin. They bring him water and food, mostly rice and rye bread, but he devours it in seconds as if he’s never eaten before. 

"Ps-st, Ben? What if they know that I'm not the right guy?" 

"We'll find out."

"And for how long am I going to be their _leader?"_ Klaus air-quotes the last word. 

Ben's response doesn't reduce his anxiety. 

"Until you "take your last breath," I guess."

"But I started my day with it! Literally." 

He flops down onto a bunch of pillows scattered across the throw-blankets. "I have a concussion," he says. "I think I broke that rock with my poor skull."

"Don't sleep then," Ben lays down next to him, elbowing his side.

Elbowing. His. Side. His injured side, but Klaus doesn't care — he turns to Ben and slaps his thigh, and he can actually feel a rough denim of his black jeans, and the smell of his leather jacket, and…

"What?!" they ask in unison.

Klaus jumps up on his feet, and Ben follows him, and they hug, properly, and Klaus feels something resembling happiness blooming in his chest. He can do it! He can make Ben corporeal! 

"What are we gonna do with it now?" 

"Huh, I don't know?" Klaus scratches his neck. "Enjoy it? Like, you can do things, touch things and stuff. You are free now," he smirks. 

His smile fades when Ben fades too. 

Klaus doesn't see the blue glowing, or anything that happened before the Moon crashed down — but his palm just goes through Ben's chest again. 

"Shit," Klaus spits out. 

"You'll do better next time."

Despite a seemingly cheerful tone, there's the sadness in Ben's eyes.

***

Klaus is sure he's gonna get killed, because this is just his life: being a superhero kid no one actually cared about, then being a homeless drug-addict, jumping from bed to bed and from one rehab to another. Talking to his dead brother. Manifesting his dead brother while going through the worst of the withdrawal. A nice woman brings some herbal tea for him, and surprisingly, it helps a little. 

"You're suffering for us," she coos softly, pushing his hair away from his sweaty forehead. "It's gonna get better eventually."

 _I'm suffering because I still have a chemical cocktail coursing through my system,_ Klaus wants to say. Klaus stays silent. She leaves. 

He's not good with the names, he can't even remember their faces, because his mind is split between the two thoughts: make Ben corporeal again and find their siblings. When are they? How are they? 

One night, when the fever kicks in again, and his consciousness keeps slipping away, yet not granting him a minute of sleep, he sees an old man wearing a loose poncho and holding a cigar between his teeth. 

"You're not the one I told them about," he says, voice raspy and harsh. "Not a bad choice though."

Klaus keeps panting in the corner of the tent — the tents remind him of Vietnam, of Dave.

"Let me guess, Morrison?"

The man nods.

"In his spiritual form." 

Klaus sits up, and looks him in the eye.

"There's dozens and dozens of people waiting for me to lead them to the light, how am I supposed to deal with that?!" he's angry, he's sick, and Ben is nowhere to be found. 

Morrison smiles with the corner of his mouth. 

"Just lead them, boy. They'll listen. And one day you'll find what you're looking for." 

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what I mean, Klaus."

Oh, his name was intended to be a mockery. 

Klaus presses his face into a pillow and groans.

When his mini-breakdown is over, he's alone in the tent. 

***

He leads them, he doesn't know a thing about the leadership, but for fuck's sake, he leads them to the light. 

***

They listen, for fuck's sake, they listen, consuming his words with their minds, they make notes, and they call him Jesus. His hair grows, curly and unkempt, and so does his beard — it's not long enough to put the beads in it, but it becomes his next unofficial goal.

***

His beard is long enough to decorate it with black and white beads.

*** 

Klaus tells his _cult_ that the world is gonna end on the first day of April in 2019 in his "been there, done that" manner. 

"Will you save us?" a girl asks. 

Klaus stumbles in his speech, full of flowery prose elements. 

"Of course, young lady. I'm working on it." 

She gives him a bouquet of flowers. And the people in the crowd raise their hands up, marked with HELLO and GOODBYE since they liked how these tattoos looked on Klaus. His body is poisoned with ink and drugs, and no matter how many hours he spends in the nearest pond, he doesn't feel clean. He can't quit drinking, he smokes the weed from time to time, but it doesn't affect his powers anymore. Klaus talks to his followers' dead relatives, sometimes just making up their words, because his power doesn't have a light switch. But, just like a deceased Morrison said, they _listen_ to him. Sometimes the spirits are talkative — he owns a crystal ball, joss sticks and the Ouija board he doesn't even need. He also gets back to reading tarot cards which used to be his teenage hobby before the drugs.

He feels helpless, but his smile is bright, and his back is as straight as a rod.

He doesn't show the Commune of Freedom his insecurity, just playing the role he was given — he's still got a lot of free time to mind his business. And Ben, an incorporeal form of him, is in search for information, literally ghost-writing some of Klaus speeches.

It works.

They're a good team. 

*** 

Klaus gets better at controlling his telekinesis; he gets better at living in the Commune as well. They're not some religious fanatics, they don't do orgies or stuff like that. Mostly, they're just lost hippie souls who like The Beatles and weed, who may seem so stereotypically "make love not war", but Klaus feels their spirit.

"I didn't expect you to start a yoga class," Ben comments.

Klaus opens one eye and shushes him. 

"It just… It helps me, it helps them."

He and a few others sit in a Lotus pose with their faces turned up to the sun. Anything to increase serotonin production, right? Klaus needs it, his cult needs it. They're living on the outskirts of Dallas, and they're actually free to travel wherever they want; they own a few cars and these hippie vans in all their psychedelic glory. Klaus begins to think that finding his peace of mind is his _real_ purpose. 

There's no sign, no letter from their siblings. 

So Klaus just swims along with the stream of life. 

***

It's been three years, and Klaus hasn't had any encounters with locals since his day one.

"I heard people talk," Ben says, pacing nervously across their tent. "You know what they're saying? They saw a huge hairy guy fighting in the ring downtown. They saw a beautiful woman of color fighting for her rights along with the others; they saw a feral kid who started a fight just because somebody called him "a kid", do I need to continue?"

Klaus rolls onto his stomach and buries his face in his hands. 

"Please, no." 

"Right," Ben nods. "They saw a "presumably Mexican lad" who claimed that JFK is going to get killed, and they also saw a _tiny girl named Vanya."_

"Same weird family, new weird problems."

"Maybe it's just time to reunite with them?" 

Klaus sighs and raises his hands. 

"Listen. Just listen. They're living their lives, okay? Moving on, getting better, all that. And look at us? We're stuck in the middle of nowhere, sharing the last brain cell to try and make these people believe us. And they do. And now you're just offering me to quit?"

And Ben says,

"You're not their leader. You're not a _real_ leader — Klaus, they're gonna kill you when their messiah comes! Don't you remember what Morrison said? You'll have to find our siblings."

"This is not what he said."

"We gotta leave," Ben says dryly. "They should know that we've landed together in the sixties as well." 

Ben is incorporeal, but he actually manages to corner Klaus — and this is not Klaus' fault, okay? He's just as perplexed as Ben, well maybe, he's a bit more _alive_ at this point. Klaus waves his hand and wants to walk through Ben — which always pisses him off — and he does. Then, there's a rush of dizziness, and his limbs go weak; he stumbles and falls to his knees as he feels something dark and angry churning inside of him.

"Ben?" he calls weakly. 

He doesn't see Ben, but he can feel his presence anyway. "Ben, where are you?"

_"I'm here."_

A second voice in his brain — Ben's voice — scares him shitless. 

"What the Hell?" Klaus moans, feeling evil creatures touch his innards. 

_"Calm down, it's the Horror."_

"Calm down? You're inside of me, Bentacles," Klaus bends over and wraps his arms around his stomach. "I feel you, get out of my body!"

_"Use your telekinesis to try and push me out?"_

Well, Ben's plan is… Actually a plan, and Klaus tries to focus on his inner energy, to mediate and relax, but all of his chakras seem to be unavailable now. Then he feels his hand move and adjust the sunglasses clipped to the waistband of his pants. 

"Are you doing this?" his voice shakes as he whispers. 

_"Yes,"_ Ben whispers in his head.

"Can you stop?"

_"I can possess you!"_

Ben sounds so excited that Klaus wants to throw up. 

The Horror's ghostly tentacles keep tingling his guts. He doesn't know how to stop it, he panics as the nausea increases; he darts out of his tent and falls to his knees on the grass where he loses his stomach's contents. 

"Klaus? You alright?"

God, he hates being watched when he pukes. 

He sniffles and raises his head only to be met by a worried glance of one of his followers. Mac, Mike, Mikey? 

"I'm fine. Just… Talking to the spirits," he swallows down the rest of his speech along with the bile.

"Oh. Good luck, I guess?" Mac, Mike, Mikey says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

Klaus gets back to the tent. 

He doesn't want to get ripped apart by the eldritch monsters, but he's sure they're gonna erupt out of the portal in his stomach fairly soon.

"Ben, please," he curls into himself. "Stop it." 

He's too queasy to try and use his telekinesis. So when he feels a little better he thinks he died again. Klaus opens his eyes and wipes the sweat off his face — and it feels weird — his skin is way too soft and smooth, there's no beard on his chin, and his head doesn't feel hot under the mop of curls. Then Klaus realizes that he sees _himself,_ lying on top of the covers and hugging a pillow to his chest — to his naked chest, he can see his flat stomach with the temple tattoo on it — sees his own concern written in his own face. 

"Well," his body says, his voice sounds like his normal voice. "I didn't know we can do that," he swallows hard, then scrunches up his nose. "Jesus, your stomach is so freaking upset." 

Klaus can't help but laugh.

"Don't call me that! My stomach felt perfectly fine before you possessed me. And don't you dare bruise this body!" 

Ben fends off, 

"Don't you dare smoke while you're inside of _my_ body."

"Pardonne moi, brother dear, but you're dead anyway." 

Now it looks funny — he looks funny — Ben sits up, looking at Klaus' palms as if this is the first time he reads HELLO and GOODBYE tattooed on them. And Ben's body is… Comfortable. Clean clothes, good health — even his mouth tastes like mint toothpaste. Ben does not look happy at all — maybe he's not used to all the physiological tricks Klaus' body used to entertain itself with, maybe he just doesn't trust Klaus at all. He gets up from the pillows and leaves the tent. Klaus walks after him, fast and light, well-trained and not feeling _dead_ at all. They have swapped their bodies, but not their powers — Klaus can still hear the dead talking to him; and well, his _own_ body can't handle the Horror, it seems. Klaus turns away politely when Ben suddenly begins to heave. As a good brother, Klaus holds his own long hair back, away from his own pale face so Ben wouldn't vomit on them.

"Told you so," Klaus says sympathetically. "Your monsters are worse than the all the comedowns I've experienced." 

Ben doesn't respond. 

Klaus waits until his brother stops retching and they walk some more. 

"I'd prefer to be dead rather feel like this," Ben suddenly says. "It just reminds me of…"

"Oh," Klaus throws an arm over his shoulder. "Hey, um, oh. It's gonna be fine, yeah? You will not let it win, right? _My_ body may be a bit… Worn-out, but it's still pretty strong, right?" 

Ben nods. 

Despite his terrible state, he moves forward stubbornly, and he almost knocks one of the men from the Commune off his feet. 

"Klaus? Where are you going?"

"Ah, a little walk," Klaus waves his hand. "Hey, Derek?"

"I'm Chris."

"Right, Chris…" Klaus realizes that Chris thinks he's talking to Ben. "Can we borrow your car?" 

"Sure," Chris gives him the keys. "Get back soon! Group meditation, remember?"

Klaus waves him a GOODBYE out of habit. 

They know Ben is dead, so he thinks his a bit eccentric attitude doesn't bother them at all. 

"Where are we going?"

"To the center," Ben responds. "Can I get my _dead_ body back?"

"I don't know how to do it, either," Klaus sighs. "Who's driving?" 

"You," Ben replies a little too quickly. "I feel like I'm about to pass out."

"So you want me to kidnap my own body?" Klaus giggles as he slips into the driver's seat. "How rude, Benji."

And Ben grumbles,

"Don’t call me that."

Klaus can admit that his "angry" face looks quite ridiculous. And the beads in his beard are not his best fashion choice. 

Klaus starts the car. He doesn't know what they're gonna do if they get stopped by the police — they've got no IDs, no nothing except their sick enthusiasm; and the more Klaus drives, the more he thinks — what if Morrison was right, and this is the day X, the exact date? Ben's been something of a private ghost-investigator these years, gathering the drops of information while Klaus was "leading lost souls to the light", and the question is: has he succeeded? Did they _really_ want it, or they just needed somebody to rely on? Klaus squeezes the steering wheel. Ben falls asleep, but it doesn't look pretty, Klaus knows his own mimics — his eyelids twitch, jaws clenched, lips pressed into a thin line; Klaus touches his abnormally hot skin. Ben whimpers. 

"I know it sucks," Klaus says. "We're gonna figure it out." 

Ben doesn’t reply, of course he doesn’t. You can't talk when you're about to vomit up all of your internal organs. Klaus used to hate the Horror for killing Ben — now he hates it even more, because he's forced Ben to go through this again. One day, they'll get better, get stronger. 

One day.

The car stops with a jerk; Klaus nearly hits his forehead on the side window; Ben hisses through his clenched teeth and opens his bleary eyes, half covered with the sunglasses. 

"What happened?"

And Klaus says,

"A problem."

"What kind of a problem?"

Klaus throws the door open.

"You see," he opens the hood, letting the smoke out. "This beauty doesn't like me. Or my driving style," he kicks the tire with his boot. 

Ben stumbles out of the car.

"Are you kidding me?"

"I wish I was."

They can wait for help, and this is the only thought that crosses Klaus' mind; but Ben doesn't even look at him as he walks down the road.

"Hey, wait? Where are you going? Ben!"

"I can't lose everything I've been working on" Ben says, walking somewhat angrier. "If you want to stay _here_ or get back — fine, I'll tell them that you've found a new family."

Klaus knows it's not Ben's words — it's just emotions, but their nerves are just rubber bands about to snap.

"You know, swapping bodies turned you to a bitch."

He's sure Ben can't hear him.

But Ben can.

"Oh, maybe it's all your body's fault then?"

Klaus laughs and tickles Ben's stomach — he knows all of (now his) weak spots. And Ben doesn't shove him away, tickling him back. They end up on the ground, grunting like a pair of rebellious teenagers, and Klaus pins Ben down, holding him by the shoulders while Ben kicks his legs, trying to get rid of him.

"I won!"

"You wish!"

"Hey, just don't unleash the Horror!"

Ben doesn't.

Ben slaps Klaus' ass instead, and —

Maybe they're just too close to each other, or maybe it's just a hurricane of mixed feelings and emotions — there's another wave of dizziness, and then Klaus hears his rapid heartbeat. _His own,_ post-hangover heartbeat. And then he moves his arms, raises them — HELLO, GOODBYE, welcome home. 

"We did it!" 

Ben looks much happier now. 

Klaus is happy for him too. 

It takes a moment and a highfive to realize that Ben is just a ghost again, and Klaus thinks that maybe it would be funny to tell their siblings that ghosts can't time travel. As a response to his thoughts, he hears the sound of an approaching car, then he sees a van, and then —

"Klaus?!"

"Luther?"

Klaus waves his hand, Luther waves back; he almost hasn't changed since the last time Klaus saw him. The van stops, and the door opens, and Klaus nearly cries as he sees all of them: Allison, wearing a yellow dress and looking stunning with her hair straightened; Vanya sitting shyly in the backseat next to Five who's wearing the Academy uniform and… Bowling shoes. 

"Aw man," Klaus says with a sad smile. He hates bowling shoes. 

Diego looks like he's just escaped from the asylum, and this is the best description Klaus can come up with. He hopes Diego doesn't mind.

"Is it weird to say that I'm glad it’s not someone's funeral, and we've just so nicely gathered together?"

He climbs into the van, making sure Ben is here with them too. 

The engine roars, and Five says,

"Alright, first off, I wanna say, we brought the end of the world back here with us." 

Klaus can't just bite his tongue — again — so he blurts out,

"Oh my god, again? My cult is gonna be so pissed." 

Silence is the only answer.

"I told them we have until 2019!"

Five is non-committal.

"We have until Monday."

And,

What a nice deja vu.

**Author's Note:**

> ngl, i wanted to write something similar to [nine lives](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25054711) but different.  
> \---  
> based on tumblr theory posts, almost all of them.  
> my tumblr: i-seeaspaceshipinthe-sky  
> \---  
> feel free to comment/share your thoughts/theories!  
> thanks for reading <3


End file.
